16 July 2013

Salami, Borscht and a Killer Conversation

There is a
Russian and Italian Networking event being held in Singapore this coming
Friday. I have been invited to this soiree by both the Italians and the
Russians - even though I am neither. Italian or Russian that is. Some Hungarian
Jewish and Irish Catholic blood courses through my veins but I am mostly white
Anglo Saxon Australian. The Hungarian is from my mother's side of the family
and the Irish is from my father. There is a trickle of English in me which is
very diluted. I am eternally grateful for this dilution as I consider English
blood to be an impurity.

A vile one at that.

However there
is a small village in Yorkshire in England that bares my family name. My
surname is an uncommon one and I shall not reveal it here as I wish to maintain
my anonymity. There are people looking for me. These are dangerous people who
wish me harm.

I do not want
them to find me.

I am unable to
attend the Russian and Italian Networking event this Friday as I have a
prior commitment. This is a great pity as I think the convergence of the
Italians and the Russians will be interesting and entertaining.

It will be
cracking in fact.

I had a quick
lunch today with two of my Italian friends and two Russians. I bought along the
two Russians. They do not live here on the Island like me and the Italians.
Their names are Vlad and Oleg and they are visiting for work. I only met these
Russians a couple of weeks ago but I thought that they would be interested in
attending the Russian and Italian Networking event so I invited them along
to the lunch to meet the Italian guys. Vlad and Oleg work for a Russian Oil and
Gas Company. Vlad manages the Security operations for his company but I have no
idea what Oleg does.

I befriended
Vlad and Oleg and a couple of their other colleagues in a chance meeting at a
bar where they were drinking copious amounts of vodka. During the
evening Oleg casually informed me that Vlad has killed men before - with
an icepick. This captured my interest immediately. As it would.I was also endeared to Vlad
by his generous offer to assassinate my deranged Danish neighbor Jens. I have
recanted this event in previous writings so I will not go through it all again.
Needless to say I thanked Vlad for his kind offer to slay Jens but I told him
that it was not necessary.

Not yet
anyway.

The Italian
friends with whom I lunched today are named Alberto and Rocco and both are wine
merchants. I met Alberto and Rocco several years ago through my friend Ornella.
Ornella owned a restaurant called "InContro" here in Singapore. I
used to eat there quite a lot with my Irish friend James. The pasta and risotto
was superb. Ornella left the Island about a year ago and 'InContro" has
since closed. Ornella went to live in Zurich where she is now married to a
fellow Jehovah's Witness. I miss Ornella and I miss "InContro" a lot
and I miss the pasta and the risotto as well. I do not miss my Irish friend
James. This is because he still lives here in Singapore and I see him all the
time.

He is a good
mate of mine.

Life was
difficult for Ornella in Singapore as a Jehovah's Witness. The Singapore
Government de-registered and banned the activities of the Jehovah's
Witnesses in 1972. Being a Jehovah's Witnesses in Singapore is illegal. Many
things are illegal here. The main reason that the Jehovah’s Witness faith is
banned in Singapore is that their religion disallows them to vote and undertake
the mandatory military service that is required for all Singaporean males.
There are at least a couple of dozen male Jehovah's Witnesses incarcerated in
Singapore for refusing to do military service. The initial sentence applied for
failure to comply is 15 months imprisonment and there is an additional 24
months applied for a second refusal.

Faith can be
tough sometimes.

My friend
Ornella taught me quite a bit about the Jehovah faith. It is a relatively
strange and almost cult like offshoot of mainstream Christianity. The Jehovah
beliefs are based on their own interpretations of the Bible and they do not
observe Christmas, Easter or birthdays. They consider these to be 'pagan'. They
do not believe in nor accept blood transfusions either.

The act of
'witnessing' is knocking on the doors of strangers and spreading the word of
their faith. They produce a publication called "Watchtower" which is
full of stories of doom and gloom and the Jehovah's path to salvation.

Jehovah's are
not allowed to 'witness' in Singapore and the "Watchtower"
publication is banned. It is verboten. I have no idea why they choose to live
here at all given their faith is not legal.

Singapore is full of crazy fuckers and I just accept this as a given now.

The Jehovah's
are big believers in Armageddon and they are firmly convinced that the
only salvation for us all is conversion. I told Ornella on more than one
occasion that I find it difficult to believe in God or Jehovah - or whatever a
higher deity might be called - given the amount of death and destruction and
wickedness that goes on in the world. I did agree though that Armageddon could
in fact be imminent. I told Ornella that I thought that it may well all start
in the Middle East.

My Russian and
Italian friends and I dined at a nice Italian restaurant called Limoncello in
Robertson Quay. The food is nice but it is not as good as InContro's was.

When I
introduced Alberto and Rocco to Vlad and Oleg they were cordial but I could
tell that they were eying each other off a little warily. I broke the ice by
telling Rocco that I was very disappointed that I could not attend the event on
Friday as I was sure that the food, the wine and the company would be
excellent.

"Vil
there be borscht?" Oleg enquired.

Borscht is a
disgusting Russian soup with beetroot being the main ingredient.

"There
willa be all a sortsa Russian and Italian food" Rocco replied.

"Vil
there be Italian vomen?" asked Vlad.

"Si" said Alberto.

"Si?"
said Vlad.

"'Si'
is Italian for 'yes' Vlad" I interjected.

"Da"

"Russian
for 'yes'" I jumped in.

I could tell
already there were going to be some language barriers over lunch.

"Let's
order food boys. I haven't got long and have to get back to the office"

Rocco waved
one of the waiters over and let loose with a string of Italian. There was a lot
of shrugging and hand waving and Alberto joined in as well. I love listening to
and watching the Italians communicate. They are pure emotion and talk with their
hands as much as their mouths.

It is poetry
in motion.

"What
are we eating?" I enquired of Rocco.

We willa
have some anti pasta and some veala and salada Pietro" he replied.

The Italians
call me Pietro and the Russians call me Pyotr. I don't mind being called either.
Call me anything you want. I don’t give a fuck.

"Vodka?" asked Vlad.

"Sure" Alberto responded.

"We
willa have some Tuscany vino as well ifa you want"

"I
will just have a lime juice please" I said.

"I
have to go back to the office and deal with the English so I need to have my
wits about me"

Plates full of
delicious smoked and dried meats and a couple of types of salamis arrived
pretty quickly. These were accompanied by an assortment of grilled vegetables. Also
arriving quickly was a bottle of Smirnov vodka for the Russians, my lime juice
and some sort of chilled white wine for the Italians.

Rocco got the
waiter to pour a mouthful of the wine into his glass and he swilled it about,
sniffed it then eventually put some in his mouth. He swooshed it around in his
gullet for a while then he spat it out. I find this all a little pretentious
and wanky and I think that the spitting out bit at the end is quite disgusting
and unnecessary. It is perhaps as disgusting as Borscht. Vlad and Oleg didn't
seem to mind. They were woofing down the anti-pasta and hurling down their
vodkas. They drink their vodka neat. No ice. It is the Russian way.

As the
Italians got into their wine and the Russians drowned themselves in vodka the
wariness that the two groups seemed to initially have of each other soon
dissipated and conversations warmed. We chatted about all sorts of interesting
and international things and we laughed quite a bit. It was apparent that the
Italian guys like Russian women a lot and the Russians like Italian girls. I
know quite a few of the Russian and Italian women who will be attending
the Networking event. They are mostly brazen and arrogant and I can say
with some surety that they won't like any of the men there at all - Russian or
Italian.

The veal we
all ate for our main meal was quite delicious and was served in a creamy
mushroom sauce. Rocco and Alberto were into their third bottle of vino
when they called for the dessert menu and the Russians had polished off most of
the bottle of Smirnov.

I gulped down
a quick double shot latte while they were collectively debating the merits of
Tiramisu and Panna Cotta. The boys looked like they were going to be there for
a fair while yet. I told them that I had to go back to the office.

"Thanks
for the lunch guys and I hope you all have a great night on Friday" I said as I stood up to
leave.

They all stood
up in unison and hugged me goodbye. Russian and the Italian men are quite
emotional and physical fuckers and I would have been quite OK with just a quick
handshake and a wave. I didn’t need a cuddle.

The Russian
and Italian Networking event on Friday will be a most drunken and interesting
event I think and I am looking forward to hearing all about it.

Rocco and
Alberto gave me a cheery "Ciao" as I walked off and Vlad and
Oleg yelled out "Do Svidanya Pyotr"